Still Life
by shimmercat
Summary: Someoneor somethingkilled seven of the original Chosen. Only the eighth knows what happened, but what if he did it himself?


Still Life: Chapter 1 - The Accusation

By shimmercat

Author's Note: This story carries a nice solid "R" rating, so don't read it if you don't feel like something rather bloody. It also has lots of character death and other fun stuff. Be warned. This is the first chapter of a series that will end up being four or five chapters long, and although it is not my first fanfic, it is the first one that I've shown anyone other than my best friend. 

The room fell eerily silent as the boy was lead, handcuffed, to the witness stand. Lanky and tall, somewhere in his late teens, he looked like an average kid who hadn't slept or showered for a week. He moved drunkenly to his seat and held up his wrists so the handcuffs could be removed. 

All eyes followed the boy's small movements as he perched uncomfortably on his chair, adjusted his glasses, ran his fingers through his short-cropped dark hair. He nervously surveyed the room, searching for a familiar face, his eyes finally settling on four figures in the first row behind the barrier. They stared back at him, four children with ice and hatred in their eyes. The defendant's gaze flitted to his hands. 

The girl in the first row turned to her three companions, whispering in Japanese something about what it would feel like to finally know, to finally see justice done. The three boys nodded; the smallest reached over and took her hand, maybe to give comfort--or to receive it. The four had managed to raise the money for the plane tickets--even though none of them had rich families--and had flown to the United States with the young man behind them, who leaned forward from the bench and took in the neurotic actions of his little brother. 

The boy on the stand rocked back and forth for a few moments and intently gazed at his lap. There was a man pacing in front of him, babbling on in that insane language, and although the boy didn't understand a word of it he knew what was being said. His elder brother had studied English and was reaching forward, repeating the American's words in low Japanese for the benefit of the four children in the front row. 

"…found in the middle of a public library with the bloody corpses of seven children, ranging in age from twelve to sixteen. He had blood dripping from his mouth, which a test proved to belong to one of the dead girls. We have contacted his parents, and they informed us that these children were his friends, the people he would usually spend time with when he wasn't studying. And one of them was his boyfriend. 

"The motive is clear--revenge. Seven friends pull some sort of stunt, and the eighth becomes angry... In a case less vile, I might have to do some intensive research to find out more about the defendant, his character and habits. But in this one I think I have enough. This boy is one of the guiltiest people I have ever seen. Not only does he have most of the classic serial killer characteristics, but the victims were all close to him--and he was the only person they were all close to. There is no doubt in my mind that the verdict on this case will be easily reached and that you should get to go home before much longer, hopefully to never hear of such an atrocity again."

The prosecutor took from his table a pile of photos, enlarged so that they would be visible from all corners of the room. He swore under his breath, again frustrated that the defendant had to be under eighteen and therefore too young to have a televised trial. He held up the first picture, lingering longer over the press' corner than the jury box. 

Two smiling adolescents grinned from the photo, their eyes sparkling with excitement. The blonde boy had his arms thrown around the girl's shoulders. "Takaishi Takeru and Yagami Hikari." The prosecuting attorney smiled grimly. "Last name first in Asian tradition. They've know _him_," he gestured at the boy on the stand, "since they were eight, almost five years ago. Now they are dead." The lawyer whipped out the next photo. The same two children now lay on the carpeted floor of the library, clothes pure red with blood. The boy had no feet; the girl had no eyes. 

"They were twelve." He walked slowly around the room, displaying the picture to everyone. He stopped for a moment in front of the children in the first row, watching their eyes widen in horror. "Did you know them?" he asked, his voice gentle. The defendant's brother translated, and two of the boys nodded, the other children looking away. The lawyer nodded curtly and continued around the room. 

He reached his desk again and returned the first two photos, picking up three new ones. "Can you imagine the horror of having to make those phone calls, telling those angels' parents that a monster killed their child? But it gets worse. Both of those kids had a brother--and both of those brothers were also found in that pile of corpses." He revealed the next two pictures. "Yagami Taichi," he held out the photo of a wildly grinning brown haired boy. "And Ishida Yamato." A rather somber blonde stared out of the page with hypnotic blue eyes. " Yamato was sixteen and Taichi's sixteenth birthday would have been next month. Both of these boys had quite a future for them; both were talented, handsome, and intelligent. Both were found in the library with the others."

The third photo was of the two on the floor, covered in blood. Taichi's hands had been cut off and Yamato was missing his ears. 

Two more photos were removed from the desk and held up for inspection. "Takenouchi Sora, the girl whose blood was on his lips. He drank almost a cup of it, and smaller amounts of the other children's blood as well." Sora was missing her breasts. "What type of monster cuts off a sixteen-year-old girl's breasts?"

The next two pictures. "Tachikawa Mimi. The anomaly, the girl who actually lived in the United States. We have no clue as to how the others ended up here; we can only speculate that they must have been brought over by the killer. Mimi was going to be a model, but she was murdered at age fourteen."

Mimi had no fingers in the second picture. 

"And our last victim, Izumi Koushirou. A fifteen-year-old with a genius IQ, a cute face, and a homicidal boyfriend. He had the strongest ties to the defendant, and his body was the most mutilated." Koushirou had no head. 

"These names may sound vaguely familiar: Yagami Taichi, Yagami Hikari, Ishida Yamato, Takenouchi Sora, Tachikawa Mimi, Takaisha Takeru, Izumi Koushirou. They were in the news several years ago, the infamous child cult group of Odaiba, a suburb of Tokyo. The victims were seven of the eight children who claimed responsibility for the strange events in their hometown four and a half years ago. If you recall, the town was nearly leveled by the freak simultaneous occurrence of an earthquake and electrical storm--and the mass panic those two events caused. These eight children saw this as their possible chance for fame and made up a wild story about how 'creatures from another world' caused the damage and death in that city, and how they had single-handedly defeated these monsters. Some people in Odiaba actually believe them, and they have become almost folk heroes in that area. They call themselves the 'Chosen Children', players in a game undoubtedly orchestrated by the oldest of them.

"Which brings us to the eldest, the eighth child. His name is Kido Jou, and if he is not the killer of these children, I would like to see him explain how he isn't."

Jou looked up when he heard his name, avoiding the still icy stares of the four children. Two translators moved to his side and swore him in. He muttered the traditional vows in English, then again in his own language. The prosecutor took his place in front, laying out his six 'before' photos. 

"Did you know these seven children?"

The translator on the left converted the message into Japanese while the whole room watched the reaction on the young defendant's face. 

Jou reached out and touched the photo of Takeru and Hikari, pushing it carefully into line with the others. His hand moved from one picture to the next, gently caressing the printed faces. He raised his head and nodded once, his eyes glittering. "Hai."

The older man smiled. "And were you there, unharmed, when they were found in the library?"

Jou listened to the translation carefully, still staring at the bright faces frozen in front of him. "Hai," he said, his voice loud but wavering slightly. 

"And were you there when they died?"

"Hai."

"And did you drink the blood of Takenouchi Sora?"

Jou closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. "Hai."

"Did you kill these seven children?"

Jou's eyes snapped open furiously. He leaned forward yelling in Japanese, "How dare you say that I killed them! I loved them more than my own life; I would have died seven times over to save them!" 

The bailiff stepped forward and pulled him back in the chair.

The prosecutor sighed. "Mr. Kido, you didn't answer the question. Did you kill these seven children?"

Jou glared at the man. "No, I did not kill them. What would I possibly have gained by doing that?"

"Mr. Kido, you're making this difficult. If you didn't kill them, then who did?"

Jou sat back in his chair, a single word his only answer. 

The translators looked at each other, before the one translating for Jou turned to the judge. "Your Honor, I'm not familiar with that word." The other shook his head. 

The judge looked down at them. "Then just repeat what he said."

The translator turned to the court and spoke.

"A Digimon."

The prosecutor blinked several times, then turned around muttering, "We'll have to get back to that." Facing Jou again, he asked, "Were you the one who mutilated the bodies?"

"No."

"So…. You were there when these children died, you saw them die, _you drank their blood_, but you did nothing to try to help them?"

"I did try to help. There was nothing I could do."

"Then why were you untouched?"

Jou looked up from his lap and wiped his face like he was trying to brush away nonexistent tears. "I wasn't untouched." His hand wandered, seemingly independent of conscious control, to his short bluish hair. "It took my hair…. I was lucky, but not untouched. Plus, have you ever known anyone to watch his eight best friends slaughtered before his eyes and still count as innocent or untouched? I haven't slept since that day because whenever I close my eyes it replays. I haven't eaten because everything tastes like blood. I haven't cried…."

The prosecutor held up his hand for Jou to stop, his eyes wide. "'…eight best friends slaughtered'? Mr. Kido, you are on trial for the murder of _seven_ people. Is--is there another body that wasn't found?"

Jou drew in his breath sharply, pulling his hand off of the banister like he had been burned as he realized what he had done. "It--it was a slip of the tongue!"

"Is there another body?"

"No. There is not… another body."

"You are under oath, Mr. Kido, and that means that lying is a felony."

Jou's eyes flashed to his brother's, then back again to the man in front of him. "I--I know that. It was a slip of the tongue." 

"Rather strange mistake to make," the prosecutor said. 

"Seven people died. Not eight."

"I see."

Jou had lost credibility and he knew it. He didn't particularly want to live anyway; the thought of doing everyday things like just going to school after having witnessed his friends being slaughtered made him feel nauseated. But a prison sentence was not what he was looking for either. He just wished to leave, to be gone, maybe even to die, preferably in the Digital World where all his happy memories were. 

And he wished that the four children in the front row would stop staring at him with such hatred. 

He needed to tell his story. The time was coming, he knew, to tell the truth and finally change the hatred in those eyes. His defense attorney, a tired state-appointed man, had told him to lie because a jury would never believe the truth. But they were going to hear the truth, for the benefit of the four children in the front row. They would understand. 

"Can we stop this pointless argument? I think that I can explain what happened." Jou raised his head. 

"Yes! Please, explain how you are innocent." The prosecutor had a malevolent glint in his eye. 

Jou found the eyes of the four children and began speaking to them in Japanese. "Please listen," he pleaded. "You are the only ones who might believe this."

He began. 

Author's Note: Gah, I managed to make absolutely clear my ignorance of both the court systems and Japanese culture. Anyway, thank you for reading. Please review and have a nice day, preferably one where your friends don't all get brutally murdered. ^_^


End file.
